Liberation underachieved

Updating the blog poses itself to be a perennial problem since I last remembered, and it is becoming more and more of a hassle. I will not give an excuse as to why I find it a problem because that is what it is, an excuse. I realised it was a liberating experience walking out of the house without your undergarment, given the face that it does not seek to constrict or restrict one’s movement especially near the crotch and nether regions.

However, I know myself to be sexually imaginative generally as a person, and as one would have it, I can’t wear boxers for a simple fact I might just get sexually aroused without notice, and at embarrassing times at that. Imagine if I was on a pilgrimage and sporting an erected penis, given the fact that sewn garments are prohibited. Such thoughts are to be constantly suppressed I suppose.

My hair is becoming more and more difficult to maintain, and I have the urge just to give it a slight trim, however, that would rescind the fact that I kept this hair to serve as a personal statement of the self. Non-conformity, which has been associated with hippies and junkies, not to mention I fall under that particular strata of society.

When I mean non-conformist, I am referring to the need to adhere to social norms or civil law. Consider it a psychological disorder, but I think people like me see the need to bend the rules and circumvent it at our will and fancy. Going mainstream is just, in the simplest terms, wonderfully absurd and boring. Many do not realise that to judge what is normal is, firstly, subjective in every sense of the word, differing in localities, and secondly, what defines normal would be the presence of abnormality.

To be considered a believer, there needs to be an atheist. This continuous balance is always kept in check by the opposing reactions that any given situation might bring rise to. Perhaps with a bit more pondering, one may figure one what I’ve been trying to put across.

Chain. Events

The day’s chains of events were rather eventful, it being freshly etched in the dismal abyss of my mind. I had accompanied my father in the morning to the market; he being zealously excited over the birthday preparations of my younger sibling.

I had proceeded back home, hands full of groceries, and all things vile, not expecting that the later part of the day would be the saga. It was agreed that we would all be meeting up at Jalan Kayu for some alfresco dining, which of course dragged beyond what I expected. Whilst I had dutifully paid for my fair share of the meal, my friends, collectively decided to abandon the eating joint without any intention of paying for their, meals. I was about to rebuff their infantile objective, when I was almost caught dead in my tracks when I thought I heard someone say, ‘Pay. Pay. Pay. Pay.’ I was almost aghast and heaved a quick sigh of relief when I had actually misconstrued what someone else had said.

Taking the bus down to Sengkang Interchange wasn’t a sombre affair to begin with. I never liked sitting in the bus, and for obvious reasons. The whole idea was as revolting as the journey itself. On top of that, I was on the verge of relieving myself, right there in the confines of the bus. After what I thought was an endless voyage, I pulled over at the adjacent bus stop, alighting to find a restroom, which wasn’t anywhere in side.

Jason had deviously suggested we went of a spree of sorts, and as to what merchandise I would not divulge. It was utterly ludicrous an idea, for if we were nabbed by the relevant authorities, perhaps I would not have been writing this entry to begin with. He incredibly managed to pull the stunt off, and I wouldn’t deny I was being wimpy about it. We travelled all around the North-eastern areas of the country, and it was a rather exhilarating experience, not to mention the sights we saw, despite it being a bit shoddy to begin with.

Gosh

I was, or have been, physically and mentally fatigued by the almost ludicrous affairs of the week. It’s almost coming to the end of the semester, and a holiday would be most deserved, a move anyone, irrespective of organisational hierarchy would laud, especially so those entangled in the arduous journey of completing their diplomas.

Imbecility was something I could ever tolerate. Whilst making it explicitly clear that I do not indulge in chauvinism or bigotry for that matter, however, at times, circumstances are appalling beyond reasonable doubt, thus the need to condone the act of discrimination.

Keeping a subdued attitude doesn’t mean one have to tolerate nonsense. Had I possessed a double-barrel shotgun, it would be most probable I would have unleashed pandemonium and mayhem. Suppressing that sadistic and tyrannical nature perhaps isn’t always a good thing. I would have loved to view the ever abominable sight of watching the brains of an individual peering out their skull.

I won’t be giving too much of a commentary, for I am, as you would have it, exhausted. Well, Friday would be a day I am very much looking forward to. Extermination of.

Unkempt thoughts = Unsound cognitive process

Take a chill pill, that’s what they say. I have to strike a chord between the banality of evil, and the comforting, and familiarity of good. Oppose as it must, I suppose it keeps one sane, as it has me.

I believe I have paid my penitence which was long overdue, and that in good cause for the abominations and tyranny I had wrecked. It comes to those who do not seek it. My indifference, my intolerance, life certainly has played its wild card.

One knows. One listens. Yet one cannot convey his knowledge. It’s almost like a stigmatising dilemma to be put through. Favoured when useful, discarded when inept, balancing egos and emotions is a tedious and usually precarious task.

Polynesians should have been annihilated from the map of the world long ago. Their existence is no better than a thorn in the flesh, where my opinion is concerned. Indefinitely, the children of Abraham are the most exalted amongst creations, and also the most powerful.

What does it take to realise one is being circumvented? It needs to be literally expressed, yet laws forbid. Paradoxically, to understand pain, one must also know pleasure, for without the latter, there is no place for comparison, vice versa.

The stagnant feeling is killing. It is best one move away from sources of discomfort, for they bring no benefit, except to leech on resources. Perhaps, with absence, wounds will heal, and there should be no space for remorse.